


Butterfly Cry

by GilbertsLeftArm



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: I just found this AU and it made me SO PUMPED, M/M, Rainbow thread chapter is coming soon really I promise, There must be some kind of warning there idk, Well Aoba's head is separate from his body so, What does free from even mean it keeps switching to that help, basically sly behaving like sly, bluejaku - Freeform, recapitation AU, sads, short description of attempted non-con, so here we go I needed to write something for it instantly, with some happys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:39:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilbertsLeftArm/pseuds/GilbertsLeftArm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This whole <em>thing</em>,” he continued, “is like a miracle. It’s messed up like you said, and really strange and odd but, <em>Aoba</em>- do you realise what has happened to you? Something <em>amazing</em>. Something indescribable but a miracle in itself.”</p><p>-Based off of Bondibee's AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Did I ever make you bleed inside?

**Author's Note:**

> This practically wrote itself.
> 
> That's a good thing, right?

_“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”_

__

_“I’m sure.”_

* * *

 

__

The sound of the doorbell was familiar. He heard it ring through the house, the notes a little faded from a wearing-out battery, but it was a simple tune that he could rely on staying the same.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and buried his hands further into his pockets. His feet creaked on the wooden flooring as he shifted his weight to his other leg a little, ears straining to hear footsteps coming to the door.

He waited a few more minutes; nothing. No one was in, then. A sigh escaped his body and it made him shiver. Breathing was a pain.

“Aoba?” he heard a voice call, and he spun round again, having been just about ready to leave.

There he was - Koujaku, _finally, thank goodness_ , a little breathless with one arm against the door and the other holding a pair of scissors. He looked firmly at him with an expression that was quickly flooding to one full of relief. There were bags under his eyes, Aoba noticed. He looked awful.

But not as awful as him.

“You know,” Aoba almost forgot he needed to put a little more force into his words now, “it’s not safe to run with scissors.”

A small smile managed to spread across his face as Koujaku put the blades down and stepped out, no shoes on, onto the street. His arms wrapped firmly around Aoba and the blue-haired man tried his best to remove his hands from his pockets and return the embrace.

“We’ve all been worried sick,” Koujaku practically whispered. He paused, and then placed his hands solidly on Aoba’s shoulders, a firm look in his eyes as he stared right at him. “Aoba, where have you been? You’ve been gone for three months with not even a note.”

“I know,” Aoba jerked a little. Koujaku’s words stung even more than he thought they would, “I just… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Koujaku breathed out heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. Suddenly, he flinched and his eyes shot to the sky before settling back on the shorter man in front of him.

“It’s starting to rain,” he said, his voice more than a little solemn, “come inside, ok?”

“Ok.” Aoba’s throat was beginning to ache; of course rain was coming.

“This rain will be welcome, I think,” Koujaku said as he closed the front door, “it hasn’t rained for a good few weeks. Wherever you went, Aoba, you’ve managed to miss the worst of the summer…” he trailed off; Aoba was slowly removing his shoes, but he was doing it in such an inconvenient fashion the older was at a loss for what to do. He had his back straight and head stubbornly upright on his shoulders, looking down with just his eyes. It resulted in him not seeing much, and he fumbled with the zip on the side much more than necessary.

“Aoba-” Koujaku tried.

“I’m fine,” Aoba replied hastily, setting his shoes by the wall.

“Do you want something to eat?” the black-haired man tilted his head to one side slightly in question.

“...No thanks.”

“Something to drink?”

Aoba shuddered, “...no.”

“...Do you want to talk about it?”

“It?”

“What happened,” Koujaku took a step closer, “where you went, what you did, why you didn’t say anything.”

Aoba slipped some hair behind his ear, “...maybe later.”

There was another period of silence as Koujaku looked around the hall at nothing in particular. He could feel the shorter’s eyes on him, waiting, anticipating for something. What did he want? What did he _himself_ want?

The hairdresser sighed again, “why don’t you go and freshen up in the bathroom? I’ve just got to finish a job off, you can sit in my living room when you’re done, and I’ll be there soon.”

“... Alright. Thank you, Koujaku.”

“Anytime, Aoba. You know that.”

“Yeah.”

Koujaku watched him trudge past, his gaze steadily set on the now retreating figure.

“Are you not going to take off your scarf?” he called after him, “it’s boiling.”

Aoba paused for just a very short second, but there was no reply as he turned down the hallway.

* * *

_“Are you having second thoughts about this?”_

__

_“More than just second… third thoughts, fourth…”_

__

_“What are you so worried about? They’re your family, your friends, they’re not going to do anything to you.”_

__

_“I get that, Mink, I just...”_

__

_“You’re just?”_

__

_“Scared.”_

__

_“I know. I’m sorry. It’s my fault; you can blame everything on me. I’ve said this before.”_

__

_“...”_

__

_“Aoba?”_

__

_“I’ll go tomorrow. Maybe the next day… can you tie this again?”_

* * *

 

Aoba had his eyes firmly shut as he faced the mirror. His fists were clenched tightly by his sides and he stood still for a moment, mentally preparing himself. He swallowed, but it was awkward and difficult; a constant reminder of how he was forced to live the rest of his life. However long that was, he didn’t know.

Slowly, a trembling hand was raised, and he set it gently on his scarf, His golden-brown eyes looked straight back at themselves, and he forced himself not to falter as he gave the material a tug, unwinding it from around his neck.

And there it was.

His head had almost come off - his guess was right; almost all the stitches around his neck had become very loose, just as he had felt. He was lucky to have made it this far without having to physically hold it up. The skin around it was not bleeding, but instead red raw with its usual inflammation. It wasn’t sore, despite its painful appearance.

“I need to completely redo this…” he muttered to himself, most of the sound escaping as a whistle through the gap in his neck.

Little by little, he helped the thread out through his skin, eventually moving one hand to have a sturdy grip on one side of his head. Doing this now with one arm was awkward - usually Mink was there to help him - but he’d have to deal with it.

The feeling of being able to control your body without your head being attached to it was something that Aoba thought he would never be able to describe, and it was something he would never really like to think about. He was made to get used to it, and he did. No more.

He slowly lifted it up, blinking for a moment to get used to the freer point of view. It only occurred to him them that he had nowhere to actually put his head _down_ , and a temporary feeling of panic washed over him until he spotted a dry towel hanging over the bath. Tucking his head under his left arm, he reached for it and spread it over the counter by the sink. He felt a small trickle of blood when he settled his head amongst the material; he must have caught it on something.

Right now, Aoba was still breathing. Again, he did not know how, but he was. His lungs were still pulling in air from the hole where his head should be - it was just his windpipe and oesophagus that had not closed up and healed over.

He debated for a short while whether to have his head facing the mirror or his body, and eventually settled with the latter. He needed to wash around his neck and make sure he didn’t catch any sort of infection. So far, that hadn’t happened, and he didn’t want it to.

Aoba pulled his jacket off and dropped it to the floor, then worked on getting off his t-shirt. His body was pale, still, as pale as it was the day his head was separated from it.

Leaning forward, he washed his hands thoroughly and paused for a moment again, drumming his fingers on the edge of the sink as he thought of the the best way to go _about_ cleaning. He didn’t really want to use much of Koujaku’s things…

He decided on just toilet roll and water in the end, and walked over to the side of the toilet to grab some.

That was when she walked in.

A young woman, someone Aoba had never seen before, was standing in the now open doorway. She was frozen on the spot, eyes locked on his head and mouth hung open in a silent scream that _did not take long to become a real one_. She slammed the door and that was probably going to be the last he ever saw of her, but that didn’t mean the noise she just made would go unnoticed.

He rushed his body back to the counter, the pounding sound of Koujaku’s footsteps getting louder with each passing second. There was no time for anything; Aoba put his head on his neck and held it there with his hand, using the other to wrap the scarf round the gap as tightly as possible without strangling himself.

The door burst open again and Aoba took an instinctive step back, hitting the sink. His head lurched in his hand and he winced, hoping desperately that Koujaku hadn’t noticed.

* * *

 

_“Mink…”_

__

_“...Hmmm?”_

__

_“I can’t… I can’t sleep like this.”_

__

_“...Where do you want your head?”_

__

_“...Back on my shoulders.”_

__

_“You know that’s not happening, Aoba.”_

__

_“...”_

__

_“...We could sew it back on.”_

__

_“Would that work?”_

_**  
**“I don’t know; we could try.”_


	2. I didn't mean to make you hide yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aoba had known, he’d known that he was going to show Koujaku. Tae wasn’t at home, and this man was the one he trusted straight after her. Sharing this, this thing… was something he had been thinking about a long time. And now that he was standing there, in Koujaku’s bathroom with blood all over his towels and nothing to keep his head physically attached to his body… he needed to bring himself to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #QuickestupdateI'vedoneinayear
> 
> Happy birthday, everyone.

“Is this ok?”

 

“...It feels pretty sturdy.”

 

“I can get something thicker if you want…”

 

“No! … I mean, it’s fine; I’ve already put you out enough today.”

 

“... Then I’ll see you later. For dinner.”

 

“Yeah, see you… oh, Mink?”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Aoba?” Koujaku was almost shouting, worry strong in the tone of his voice, “what happened? Why did Hana-san scream so loud? She’s left, you know; I hadn’t even finished cutting her hair yet… she just wanted to use the bathroom,” his eyes widened further and dread washed over his face as he gulped, “shit…”

 

“Um… Koujaku, it’s not-” Aoba began, but the black-haired man didn’t stop.

 

“I forgot to tell her  you were in here; there’s no lock at the moment on the door, is there...?”

 

“Koujaku, I-”

 

“She must have seen you in the middle of… whatever you were doing,” he ran his hands down his face, cheeks flushed bright red, “I really need to call her and apologise,” he fished around in his bag for his coil, “oh damn, this is  so  embarrass-”

 

“Koujaku! Please, just listen!”

 

The man stopped. He looked, stressed, at Aoba with confusion. It was the first time Aoba had spoken so strongly since he’d shown up at the door (even though he hadn’t said much yet).

 

“...What is it?”

 

Aoba frowned, trying to adjust the grip he had on his head to a more natural-looking position.

 

“She didn’t see anything… like that, ok?” he looked down, trying desperately to put words together, “but I’m still worried that she’s going to do something about what she  did  see.”

 

Koujaku’s eyebrows knitted, not quite managing to catch on to Aoba’s tone of voice, “and what was that?”

 

“I-I’m not really sure if I should say.”

 

“Why not? Look… Aoba,” Koujaku entered the bathroom, eyes flickering from the thread that was now hanging from the sink, bloody and dirty from Aoba’s experience of trying to get it out on his own, and the towel, which contained small red stains, “what were you doing in here? Please; whatever it was  really disturbed her and you can’t just not tell me. It’s not fair.”

 

Aoba remained silent.

 

“Aoba,” Koujaku’s voice became firmer.

 

Aoba moved his free hand to his mouth, chewing on the knuckle of his index finger.

 

“ Aoba. What is on that towel, and that piece of string?”

 

No reply.

 

“Is it blood?  Is that blood, Aoba?”

 

Aoba went white. What was he supposed to say? It was so obvious that that was what it was. The smell of it suddenly amplified, the iron tang filling his nose as he stared at Koujaku’s feet. Words came to him, attempting to form a reply, but they fell away and broke seconds later.

 

There was no lying about this; his head wasn’t even sewn on and if he moved too much it would become obvious. Aoba had known, he’d  known  that he was going to show Koujaku. Tae wasn’t at home, and this man was the one he trusted straight after her. Sharing this, this  thing … was something he had been thinking about a long time. And now that he was standing there, in Koujaku’s bathroom with blood all over his towels  and nothing to keep his head physically attached to his body… he needed to bring himself to do it.

* * *

 

 

“...Mink?”

 

“...”

 

“Mink… what is this? What is...”

 

“...I was wrong… I thought that your-”

 

“Mink, what..? What is, oh  God , is that-is that my..?”

 

“Aoba, calm dow-”

 

“How can you expect me to calm down? I can’t breathe… I-I’m talking but I can’t breathe. Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my G-”

 

“Aoba!”

* * *

 

 

He clenched his fist, pressing it down onto the counter and still refusing to meet Koujaku’s eyes. He didn’t need to; he could easily imagine the look on his face: irate and definitely flustered, but tense.

 

“Koujaku…” the words finally escaped, “there’s something I need to show you. It’s important.”

 

Aoba heard a long and exasperated sigh.

 

“It’s about where I went,” he continued, “I’m just trying to find a.. a way to tell you.”

“What?” Koujaku blinked, his strained appearance lessening with each passing word, “what did you do, Aoba?”

 

“I could do a lot of talking,” the blue-haired man frowned (as if he wasn’t already), “and it could for once be better than showing you, ‘cause I’m sure there are things in life you’d rather not see and this has to probably be one of them, but…” his sentence fell short.

 

“But..?” the other encouraged.

 

“I don’t think I’d be able to find the right words to say it right.”

 

Koujaku scratched the back of his head and reached forward to pat Aoba encouragingly, but the younger quickly drew back, leaving both of them at a pause.

 

“Do you want to show me… whatever it is… in the living room? Like I suggested earlier?”

 

“...Ok. Yeah, I’ll do that.”

 

Aoba walked slowly as he followed the hairdresser down the hallway. His thoughts ate away at his mind, half of his brain screaming that he was making completely the wrong decision. The other half was not much of a positive contradiction; he felt full of a horribly nervous anticipation - the kind that put bees in your stomach instead of butterflies and drained your throat so dry until it could rival a desert. He swallowed, only to feel a trickle of saliva bubble out of his neck and soak into his scarf. Aoba trembled.

 

“Do you want to sit down?” Koujaku asked as they walked into the room.

 

Aoba refrained as best he could from the instinctive urge to shake his head no, “nah… I’ll… I’d prefer it better if we were standing up.”

 

The black-haired man sent him an pensively inquisitive look - not like he hadn’t already - and apishly stood opposite him, no more than a couple of feet away.

 

“Well… here we are,” he appeared like he was about to shrug, but then he must have deemed it too dismissive because instead he just gave a strange jerk.

 

"I...you need to trust me, alright?” Aoba actually looked at him now, feeling even smaller under the piercing red gaze, “You can't get scared, or scream or anything.”

 

"I won't freak out, whatever it is. I trust you; you're my best friend, Aoba."

 

"...Ok. Put your hands out."

 

Koujaku did as he said straight away; his arms were out in front of him as Aoba bent down, a little unsteady in his movements. He brought the taller man's hands to get a firm grip on either side of his head, and then he guessed was ready.

 

"Ready?" Aoba glanced up at him.

 

"I don't really know what to expect," he admitted, "but, yes, I'm ready."

 

"...right. Um, hold tight."

 

With a heavy breath, Aoba closed his eyes after one last look up at Koujaku, ensured the grip on his head was solid, and then gently pulled away. He watched Koujaku's eyes widen further with each centimetre he separated from his head, and before he knew it his body was upright, arms slowly helping a frozen Koujaku bring his head up to a higher level.

 

Aoba opened his eyes and instantly wasn't sure whether he should look at him or not. Koujaku did it for him, though, bringing his head close to his face.

 

He parted his lips to say something, but the older man really was at a loss. Aoba put his hands on Koujaku's shoulers and gently grasped them.

 

In the end, the only thing that came out of his friend’s mouth was a quiet whisper, soft and full of so much emotion that Aoba's heart quite nearly broke in half then and there.

  
"Aoba...  what happened to you ?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grrrr; this was harder to write than I thought.
> 
> I was going to have it like Aoba gets Koujaku to close his eyes and then put his head in his hands. But as grotesquely comedic as that is, I didn't think it was as appropriate. Darn.
> 
> Forgive any spelling/grammar mistakes. Or even better; let me know if you spot them - it's almost 11pm and I can barely keep my eyes open after such a long day.
> 
> I'll put the italics back in tomorrow; they were sort of important, but AO3 has eaten them again. Double grrrr.


	3. Find you in you, beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s the smile I was looking for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stephen Fry voice*
> 
> Gooooood evening good evening good evening good evening good evening good evening and welcome to QI with-
> 
> Ok no lets not this time
> 
> I'm really sorry for this super short and/or super late update! I currently reside in my grandparents house in a foreign country of which I have no language ability beyond "hello" and "cheese sandwich".
> 
> (but that's all you need, right?)
> 
> Please enjoy this! I have a few days to relax and write now, so you can expect some speed from now on.
> 
> (Also there are some new tags in the description that you might want to take a peek at)

_"Aoba... what happened to you ?"_

 

Koujaku’s red eyes were piercing, not wavering at all as he stood, his best friend’s head in his hands. It was his voice that gave it away, though; shaky and uneven.

 

Aoba’s eyes fell to the floor. He reached his arms out, unsure whether or not he should take his head back. Koujaku’s grip was tight like a metal vice on his skull, although not in a painful way. Aoba could sense his fear of dropping him more than a little.

 

In the end the blue haired man just rested his hands over Koujaku’s, breathing deeply and slowly as he fought to find the words that could at least begin to even follow up what he had just shown him.

 

“A lot of things have happened to me, Koujaku,” Aoba replied quietly. His voice, no longer aided by his lungs or diaphragm, was slightly more nasally as he talked, “but you can… see the end result.”

 

Koujaku nodded slowly, and Aoba shuffled his feet.

 

“Neither... Mink, nor myself, are too sure about why I can still be alive,” his continuation rung with a humourless laugh, “but I don’t like to think about the… _how_ … too much. I just want to get on with it. And…”

 

“...And?” Koujaku encouraged.

 

Aoba blinked, not even realising that he had trailed off, “and… I don’t know. Live as normally as possible. We, uh… decided that everyone had to find out eventually. Something like this is a little hard to keep secret for too long and so… here I am.”

 

“Here you are,” the older echoed.

 

Aoba cleared his throat, a tiny smile appearing on his face. It reeked of pain, “this is me now, then. Koujaku, for not freaking out and all that… thank you.”

 

“Aoba… you’re welcome,” Koujaku sent the smile back, the scars on his face moving with his skin.

 

_“We’ve all got scars like these, inside or out… yours is just bigger than most. Do not let it be a hindrace, Aoba.”_

_“I’ll try not to... Mink.”_

_“That’s the smile I was looking for.”_

 

“So,” Koujaku coughed, a slight and almost welcome awkwardness returning to his demanour, “in the bathroom, you were..?”

 

“Sewing my head back on,” Aoba answered him, “I really sort of need it on my shoulders in public and the stitches don’t last too long. It’s a little harder when I’m on my own… usually Mink’s there to help.”

 

“Mink, again,” Koujaku’s voice was low, “that’s the second time you’ve mentioned him now. Is he..?”

 

“I went into Oval Tower with him… I’ll tell you the full story later, alright? But he was… kind of the one that, uh, did this to me in the first place.”

 

He felt Koujaku’s grip on his head tighten and he struggled until the older realised what he was doing, letting out a small apology and sitting down.

 

“That _bastard_ ,” he gritted his teeth, “Aoba-”

 

“Koujaku,” Aoba’s words came out like he’d been thinking over them for a long time, “Mink isn’t… a bad person. His past is messed up and he just… took a little longer to find his way in the world. He… I… I really like him. He’s special to me, just like you. Over these few months he’s done nothing but support me and I just… yeah. Yeah.”

 

Aoba realised his head was in Koujaku’s lap only at this point, resting on his knees and facing upwards towards them. It didn’t seem like the black-haired man was willing move him yet.

 

They sat in silence, both of them experiencing conflicting emotions at their highest. Koujaku’s fingers had become absentmindedly entangled in Aoba’s hair, but the pain it caused was the last thing on anyone’s mind. The blue-haired man’s eyes flickered to Beni, who was perched in sleep mode on the mantel piece next to an analogue clock. The ticking was welcome, and so was the sound of the rain outside, which had quickly become heavy and relentless. It washed away the summer heat and the dark clouds warned a storm soon.

 

“Aoba,” Koujaku’s voice slightly startled him, “I… I want to help you. Can I help?”

 

Just like that, everything felt easier.

 

“This so, _so_ messed up,” Aoba said, gesturing wildly with his hands, “this whole… whole thing. Wha- Koujaku! What are you doing?”

 

Koujaku had lifted his head quickly, placing it on the coffee table. The cold seeped into his neck and startled him, but warmth came from somewhere else when the older pulled his headless body into a strong hug, breath hot and tingling on his shoulder.

 

“I’m so glad you’re safe.”

 

Aoba barely caught that.

 

“This whole _thing_ ,” he continued, “is like a miracle. It’s messed up like you said, and really strange and odd but, _Aoba_ \- do you realise what has happened to you? Something _amazing_. Something indescribable but a miracle in itself.”

 

The blue haired man made a noise that sufficed to a reluctant hum of approval.

 

When Koujaku tried to carry on, he silenced him by putting his finger on his lips (all these words… they were starting to get ahead of themselves), and stood up, grabbing his head in one hand and Koujaku’s arm in the other. He led him to the bathroom and let go again, reaching for the bloody thread by the sink and returning his head to the spot on the towel.

Koujaku looked at him with wide and confused eyes at the sudden sight before him, and it dawned on Aoba just how fast the last few moments had happened.

 

Running the thread in his hands, before putting it in the other's with a gentle pat, he picked up his head (for most likely the hundredth time that day) and brought it up between them. 

  
“Can you help me now?” he asked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh well we might need some kind of heavy-duty incinerator to get all this cheese out of the room.
> 
> Stupid gay trashbabies.
> 
> Alex, this chapter was for you because you wanted it. Hooray c:


	4. Do not grow the seeds of pain in you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well… you know: the whole chain and torn jacket look is much more imposing. You don’t even get time to think about the little pink bird sitting on his shoulder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW THE INTERNET HERE IS AWFUL
> 
> Apparently it's because everyone uses it to get TV
> 
> I can't type more than five words on Google Docs without having to refresh the bloody page.
> 
> Absolutely no idea how I'm supposed to watch the new episode tonight.

“How do you usually do this?” Koujaku frowned as he eyed the thread almost suspiciously, washing the blood off of it under the tap in the sink, “as in, like… what sort of stitch? If it’s anything complicated, this might take longer than we originally thought,” his laugh was a little hollow, “I’m a hairdresser, not a needleworker.”

 

“I’m sure needwork is a lot different when it’s done on skin,” Aoba shrugged, seating himself on the toilet and positioning his head on his shoulders. Then, he pondered for a moment, knowing Koujaku was waiting for an answer to his question. He realised that whenever Mink did his stitches, they were always stronger than the few times he had done it himself. And when he was out and Aoba needed to do some emergency repairs, the best he could come up with was a poor quality running stitch.

 

That, like it had today, had proven countless times not to last very long.

 

“Just try going up and down with it,” Aoba suggested. He tilted his head a little to the left, and Koujaku couldn’t help but grimace at the flesh he could see from the gap inside. Indeed most of it all had closed up, but that didn’t mean it looked like regular, healthy skin; earlier he’d been too distracted by the sheer abnormality of it all that he had barely realised it was more than a little gross. He was never going to say anything, though. He imagined Aoba was already very self-concious about it.

 

“Alright, then: here we go,” there were already holes in Aoba’s skin to put thread through - Koujaku guessed that it was rather like holes that take a while to close after you get piercings. The thread was a little frayed at the end, so he had to fold the tip to get it through each hole.

 

And it was proving difficult.

 

He was hurting Aoba, he could see the blue-haired man try to hide his winces as Koujaku pulled the thread through his skin. The older cringed himself when it got caught on the skin.

 

The worst part was about a quarter of the way round, where Koujaku got to the front of his neck. There was no change with the holes, but this was the area where, however his head got seperated, Aoba’s Adam’s apple and other pieces of neck cartilage had split apart. It was all disgusting, and Koujaku had to try his best not to gag when Aoba half-swallowed by reflex and saliva leaked out of the remaining gap.

 

“Sorry,” his words had begun to whistle again when he apologised to Koujaku, “that happens sometimes."

 

“No worries, no worries,” the older assured him, but he wasn’t sure whether it was more for himself or not.

 

Unfortunately, after a few minutes more of the ordeal, one of them (neither of them were really sure who due to the shock) had sneezed and the thread in Koujaku’s hand had jerked, snapping clean off with nowhere near enough to finish the job off.

 

“Great…” Aoba murmured as the other frantically unstitched his handiwork, once again putting the thread by the sink.

 

“Sorry,” Koujaku said, his voice full of a tone Aoba couldn’t read “looks like you’re going to have to carry that head of yours around for a while. When did you say Mink was picking me up,”

 

Aoba shrugged, “he just said ‘later’.”

 

The black-haired man narrowed his eyes, “he’s only useful where he wants to be, isn’t he?”

 

“I guess.”

 

There was silence for a moment as both of them temporarily had nothing to say. Aoba simply put his head on his lap again, tapping his feet on the floor of the bathroom.

 

“I know you said you weren’t hungry earlier,” Koujaku remarked, “but was that because of all this?” his eyebrows furrowed as he added another question, “how _do_ you eat, Aoba?”

 

He chuckled, the changed sound from the laugh he was used to throwing the hairdresser off for a second, “with great difficulty. I mostly have just stuff to drink now. Mink makes smoothies and mushes up all my dinner, and then we just kind of… you know.”

 

Koujaku stared, leaning back a bit with a disturbed expression on his face, “wait… you… pour it down…?”

 

Aoba nodded grimly and Koujaku couldn’t help but shudder.

 

“I haven’t tasted anything but gum in weeks,” Aoba admitted, rubbing his shoulder, “because… yeah.”

 

Suddenly his stomach grumbled, the sound amplified by the distance his ears were from it.

 

“Come on,” Koujaku sighed (there was some humour tucked in there), “let’s make something to eat. I think I’m just as hungry as you are.”

* * *

 

_“Oh man, this is literally really gross.”_

_“It’s the best either of us can do,”_

_“...I know. Just, just- go slowly, ok? Try not to spill anything.”_

_“You know I won’t.”_

* * *

 

“I don’t think you appreciate,” Aoba reached across Koujaku for a wooden spoon, “how hard and awkward it is too cook with your own head tucked under your armpit.”

 

Koujaku grinned.

 

“Of course, this arm’s always fine,” he waved his free hand, “but this one can only move if it keep my grip on my head along this part. And even then I only get a small arc of movement. Plus…”

 

“Plus..?”

 

“I can’t see for shit,”

 

“I figured. Can you reach up there and grab the salt for me, please?”

 

“Are you actually serious right now? No. Actually, you could do something for me,”

 

“Mmmm? What?”

 

Aoba titled his head over the pan a little to check to food as he replied, “Could you lend me a hairband to get this all out of my face? Mine sort of snapped this morning.”

 

He heard Koujaku shuffle around behind him, and then the familiar sharp tingle as the man’s fingers softly brushed through his hair.

 

“It would be more than a tiny bit difficult to tie it up with all these beads and feathers in the way. Did Mink put these in?”

 

Koujaku felt him shake in a nod.

 

“They ‘re really… nice. Beautiful, even. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been able to even guess he was into that sort of thing.”

 

“You can still say that after seeing his AllMate?”

 

“Well… you know: the whole chain and torn jacket look _is_ much more imposing. You don’t even get time to think about the little pink bird sitting on his shoulder.”

 

Koujaku went back to fixing his hair, working expertly around the crafts.

 

“He doesn’t look like that now, you know,” Aoba said, his voice holding a slight hesitant edge.

 

“Hmm? You mean Mink?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“In what way?”

 

Aoba stared absently at the sizzling vegetables, “just… completely. His eyes, to start. They’re golden - I think he had contacts or something before - but now they’re like… I look at them a lot. And his hair! Koujaku, he’s taken his dreadlocks out, and it’s really nice. Not that it wasn’t before, but it’s like practically the same length as mine and everything,”

 

Koujaku stiffened a little.

 

“Seriously… I don’t even think you’d recognise him. Oh! look: this has cooked, here, I need to get a bowl. Can you hurry and finish this up?”

  
“...Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've probably made some very embarrassing grammar/spelling mistake somewhere; I'm just lazy and plus my friends keep nagging for this so HERE YOU GO ARE YOU HAPPY NOW <3
> 
> I was going to bring Sly in to this chapter but it really dragged on and I think he'll fit better in the next one. This is sort of a bridge chapter to the next plot point.
> 
> Hooray.


	5. Let them cry for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t something someone said, nor was it someone speaking to Aoba in his head; it was merely a memory, a memory of something he had not seen for months, something he hoped would never appear again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You think I'm paying £25 for wifi?????
> 
> Do you??????
> 
> Tip: The Palace of Versailles is a lovely place to visit (Apollon's statue in the centre of the gardens is /gorgeous/), but the hotels around the area are ridiculously overpriced.
> 
> Luckily though, with the absence of my usual internet-dependant distractions, I could make this chapter longer. Please enjoy it, everyone! there is actual! Plot! Now!

Mink didn’t often reply to the messages Aoba would send him on his coil, but he didn’t mind. This case was no different; the blue-haired man had sent him a quick note just to say everything was ok with Koujaku, and that Mink could come and pick him up when he was ready.

 

Of course, it had indeed occurred to Aoba that he could just get a taxi by himself to the hotel where they were staying, but Mink had seemed strangely insistent that morning. Not in a forceful way, but with a determined edge, like he was planning something. Aoba was just left to wonder what.

 

“Mink actually went out and bought a feeding tube for me after the first few times,” he had just admitted to Koujaku, who was getting more of Aoba’s dinner onto a spoon.

 

“Well,” Koujaku’s sigh was accompanied with a small smile, “there are a few things in life you can’t really prepare for,” he gave a quick and almost cheeky glance to his head, which was resting facing him on the dining room table, a towel tucked underneath for comfort, “like: it’s not everyday your three-months-missing best friend shows up headless on your doorstep, is it?”

 

Aoba chuckled quietly, but stopped when the older tipped the spoon over his oesophagus (even describing the action in his head was awfully disgusting). He swallowed by reflex (again, not for the first time) and saliva dampened the towel around him.

 

“Ugh,” his whole body shuddered, “I hate this so much.”

 

“I’m sorry,” the volume and humour in Koujaku’s voice was lost.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Aoba insisted as he groaned inwardly in return, “just… try not to get any down my windpipe. Mink has _always_ been careful and he’s never missed yet… _ew_ ; I’d _hate_ to know what would happen if he did.”

 

“You won’t be finding out today,” despite the sheer and utter _weirdness_ of Aoba’s situation, Koujaku was determined to get everything right.

 

It was only after they’d completely prepared the dinner (a beautifully-smelling bowl of udon with an assortment of vegetables both men could have sworn they never realised they could cook so well) that they realised that, really, it was way too thick for Aoba to eat. If one could even call it eating. On top of that, Koujaku’s blender broke halfway through blending it all - so he resorted to mashing the rest with a spoon and then feeding Aoba with it. He worked on juggling chopsticks with his weaker hand to eat his own dinner.

 

“How much more is there to go?” Aoba shivered again when another lot of squished food went down.

 

The black-haired man peeked at the bowl and gathered some more food onto the spoon, “oh, not much at all. We’ll be done in a minute.”

 

The relief was clear in Aoba’s tone of voice, “oh, that’s great, because I wanted to show yo- ugh! Koujaku, what are you doing? Be more careful!” he let out a splutter of coughs and tried to turn his head to face his body at a better angle, feeling the thick mixture spill down his shoulder and under his shirt.

 

“You moved!” Koujaku argued back, just glad he’d saved it and the food hadn’t tumbled down the wrong hole.

 

“I didn’t!”

 

“You did!”

 

“But why would-”

 

Aoba blinked, an odd sensation running through him.

 

All the feeling from his body was cut off.

 

“ _Aoba_!” Koujaku practically screamed and then he heard the sound of more than one chair jerking and scraping against the floor, “wha- what are you doing? Get off me!”

 

“I’m not doing anything?” with the all the noise coming from behind him, the growing panic inside him only increased.

 

“What the hell do you even mean by that? Stop doing this!”

 

“I-” a vague feeling, more like an instinct that a comprehensible collection of words, settled in the back of Aoba’s mind. It was one that he couldn’t yet make sense of, and he still wished desperately that he could see what was happening. Why couldn’t he feel his body?

 

“Koujaku…” he said, hearing the grunts of him struggling, “t-turn my head around. Quick,” his voice was flat, but it held so much urgency that Koujaku couldn’t argue; he forced his arm across, fighting for a free hand and tearing his right away from the ones grabbing at his wrists. As best he could, he swiveled Aoba’s head around on the table before his arm again became trapped.

 

It took Aoba a few moments to recover from the burn such a speed on the towel gave his sensitive skin, but all thoughts of pain were lost when he saw the sight before him.

 

“Oh my God…” the words came out as barely more than drifting air, like someone blowing seeds on a dandelion.

 

Koujaku was pinned on the floor, underneath his body - _his_ body. The black-haired man was writhing and struggling, but Aoba’s body was strong and relentless against him, holding him down with visible force. Slowly, the body pulled Koujaku’s hands upward, and with each inch they moved, Aoba’s eyes widened more. He… well, not _he_ … was bringing Koujaku’s fingers down his body, past his chest and catching on his shirt, trailing along the fabric steadily. It wasn’t hard to work out what was happening.

 

Frozen, they both watched with helpless dread when the hands came to rest between their tangled pile of legs.

 

“K-Koujaku…” Aoba’s voice managed to let out yet another tone neither of them had heard before.

 

But Koujaku remained still, cheeks flushed bright red as he swallowed, eyes never leaving his hands. They were being made to unbuckled the younger’s belt, fingers working against his will.

 

“I…” Aoba spoke again, before the other could, “I can’t control it… I can barely feel anything at all. Koujaku, I…” he trailed off when his jeans were yanked to below his knees.

 

“Aoba!” Koujaku had finally regained the ability to speak, just as Aoba’s body’s hands found the way to the hem of his underwear, “what- _what do I do_?” he was wriggling furiously now, looking away from the sight before him, “I can’t… I can’t-”

 

The body slid forward, panting chest pressing up against Koujaku’s bare one (his kimono had easily become undone in the process, and it was spread out beneath him like a puddle of blood). One of his body’s hands actually let go now, although it was still holding the man down just as strongly as before. Nails began to claw all over his skin, letting blood bleed through all the wounds that were made.

 

Koujaku could do nothing more than make vague sounds of pain.

 

_Destroy._

_I want to destroy._

 

It wasn’t something someone said, nor was it someone speaking to Aoba in his head; it was merely a memory, a memory of something he had not seen for months, something he hoped would never appear again.

 

_I want to destroy._

Aoba could see Koujaku’s body, covered all over in scars and tattoos and drops of shiny sweat that pooled in dips in his chest. He refused to stop struggling.

 

He felt awful - he was powerless with no limbs to move him. He could barely rock his head back and forth, and the thought that arose of pushing himself too hard and rolling onto the floor only to crack open his skull just made everything worse.

 

He called out the older’s name weakly, barely believing it was all happening.

 

Suddenly, the body stopped, seeming to think for a moment before reaching up towards the table. Aoba gasped as a hand, _his own hand_ \- he still could not get over that, drew closer, but the headless body was after something else. It could just reach the dinner, and it was pulled down to the floor as the body settled it beside Koujaku’s head.

 

It scooped up some of the crushed udon and vegetables with its finger and ran it down Koujaku’s chest, appearing to ignore the winces the black-haired man gave when he passed over a wound.

 

Another noise had also entered earshot - the sound of a door bursting open and then heavy, quick footsteps approaching the living room. As they grew louder, Aoba’s desperation grew even stronger and millions more thoughts entered his mind. If this person wasn’t who he thought it was…

 

“Aoba,” Mink’s voice made him want to do nothing more than collapse with relief, but that was impossible to do just as a head. He couldn’t see him for a few seconds, but the man immediately and calmly assessed the situation, before promptly walking towards the bodies on the floor and removing ‘Aoba’ from his position with a single arm. He was flung onto the nearest chair. Stunned, the body did nothing but ‘watch' as Koujaku was helped to his feet.

 

Koujaku, remembering the description Aoba gave of him, recognised Mink straight away. He stood much taller than him, but a lot of the bulk he could recall had appeared to have been lost since the last time he saw him. Perhaps it was the new choice of clothing he wore.

 

Mink’s pupils were tiny. His golden eyes were wide with rage, the only signs that betrayed his current feelings; something was hurting Aoba, and he was _mad_.

 

The hairdresser made for the kitchen roll on the table to wipe down his chest, but Aoba quickly yelled to stop him (surprising both Koujaku and Mink), facing him straight on for the first time since he was on his feet.

 

_Destr-_

 

His body had been writing.

 

Had Aoba had a spine at that moment, chills as sharp and as cold as ice would have run down it. It wasn’t hard to work would have been should it have been finished.

 

“It’s…” Aoba’s eyes glazed over, falling to the floor “he’s...”

 

“Your Desire,” Mink finished gently for him, his voice a familiar deep tone that sent a flood of calm and confidence through the younger as he took a step closer. With seemingly practised ease He lifted Aoba’s head into his arms - strong, protective arms that the younger had once known only pain from. But not anymore.

  
_I want to destroy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minkleton <3
> 
> I'm home from my holiday now, so updates should be all settled into nice, short gaps. 
> 
> Episode five was greattttttttttt


	6. Because the world is wonderful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is no other option. Unless we moved his Desire with the whole chair, and that would look peculiar if seen in the streets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see: Kayak, Konami, Korean, Koala, Low Jay, Outskirts, Kookaburra or You January instead of Koujaku, it's because I wrote this whole chapter on my phone and the autocorrect is an arse and I can't turn it off.
> 
> Again, thank you for sticking with me, all of you. I read your comments and accept your kudos and bookmarks with undying love and happiness. Ily. Totsu. And yeah also thank you for putting up with the stupid mistakes I make while writingggggg

Koujaku was still panting heavily, eyes wide and almost blank with shock. He looked at Aoba’s body, unnervingly still and seated on the chair, and then towards Mink. The great man stood a few feet away (and he had Aoba’s head cradled firmly against his chest).

 

“What,” the hairdresser was struggling to form words through his sharp breaths, raising a shaky hand to point towards the body, “the _fuck_ just happened?”

 

“It seems,” Mink’s voice startled him; he wasn’t expecting a reply so quickly, “Aoba’s Desire did not truly leave when I banished him.”

 

“But where is his consciousness?” Aoba panicked, ignoring the fact that Koujaku’s expression was morphing into one of confusion in favour of practically yelling at Mink, ”how can he control my body with no brain?”

 

“We don’t know everything about you, Aoba, remember that,” he was contrastedly calm - blunt, almost, “we only have the information we got before we left Oval Tower.”

 

Aoba shifted in his arms, a pensive glance at the rest of himself. He bit his lip, eyes running over Koujaku and Mink slowly. Then, they fell to the floor, blue hair falling in the way of face.

 

“Tie him up,” he said, his voice dark, “until we figure out how to fix this. For all we know, putting my head back on will let him into my brain again.”

 

“You better explain this all to me while we’re doing this,” Koujaku watched Aoba without moving as Mink placed him on the table.

 

“...Yeah.”

 

The black-haired man looked a little hurt, but both the body and Mink’s existences in the room made him too preoccupied to start any sort of argument.

 

“Koujaku,” it was the first time Mink had directly spoken to him since he arrived, and the hairdresser’s response was more than a little flinch.

 

“...Yeah?”

 

“Do you have a rope?”

 

“I… think so…”

 

“Go and find it. Be as quick as you can, Aoba’s Desire might wake up again,” after speaking rather bluntly for the subject matter, Mink proceeded to hold Aoba’s body down in the chair by his shoulders.

It didn’t take him a long time to fetch one; nowhere near enough time for Aoba and Mink to have a proper conversation that went past “are you okay?” and “yeah… I think so.”

 

The blue-haired man watched in silence as the others got to work, wrapping rope over as much of his body as they could. He found his eyes set on Koujaku most of the time - he was taking the past few hours surprisingly well, calming down quickly from everything, but he could still see the shaking in his movements and the bead of sweat about to drip from his face. Aoba couldn’t blame him at all; he’d barely confronted this whole mess himself after a few months, so how could someone who’d only just found out be so calm?

 

As for Mink, the sight of him made a strong feeling grow in his heart. The man worked silently and efficiently with the ropes, reminding him in some twisted way of the days he’d spent watching him cook, or craft, back in their cabin home.

 

Aoba blinked.

 

 _Their_ cabin home?

 

“There,” Koujaku’s voice sounded disturbingly emotionless as it brought Aoba back into focus, watching Mink secure the final knot. Desire had long since stopped struggling and his headless body was truly starting to look like the corpse it should have been. Pale and limp, it made him wonder if the other him was still in there at all.

 

“Your hair is very tangled, Aoba,” Mink surprised him when he rested a hand on the back of his head, “I’ll wash it for you when we get back to the hotel.”

 

Koujaku’s eyes darted towards them both, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them, “as a hairdresser I’d do a better job.”

 

Mink casted him a temporary glance, but Aoba’s panicked voice drew his attention away, “you’re planning on leaving my body here?”

 

“I want to keep you separate for now,” Mink stated, “we don’t want him putting you back together. He could get into your brain again.”

 

“That’s true,” Aoba groaned, “should we… go now, then? I…”

 

“I think it’s best if we leave Koujaku alone, yes.”

 

“With _this_ thing in my apartment?” the black-haired man stepped forward, “ _alone_ with it?”

 

“I don’t see the problem,” Mink stated flatly, “we tied him up. You know how secure he is. And,” his eyes narrowed a hair-width, “you want to keep Aoba out of danger, don’t you?”

Koujaku couldn’t argue with that, and neither Aoba, but it seemed something else could.

 

The blue-haired man was in a bundle of cloth tucked against Mink’s left arm, wrapped up warm against the rain-cooled night they’d surely be greeted with. He was watching with a solemn expression as he reached for the door when a searing pain speared through his brain.

 

“Ah-!” he cried out, and Mink stopped instantly to look him over.

 

“Aoba?” his voice was quietly concerned, left from the days where the younger’s headaches didn’t appreciate loud noise, “what’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t…know-” he gritted his teeth, “it just suddenly…-started.”

 

“Aoba!” they heard Koujaku’s voice coming from the living room, and turned to see him with a worried face, hands clutching the hall doorway, “your body, it’s…it’s…”

 

“What is it?” Mink began to step closer. As he did, he watched the hairdresser (whose eyes were fixed on the body in the room they couldn’t see) become confused, jaw falling slack.

 

“I don’t what it was,” he replied, “it’s stopped now.”

 

Something passed across Mink’s face, “and Aoba? how do you feel?”

 

“...fine, I think.”

 

He took a few steps back down the hall, towards the front door again. A startled gasp escaped Koujaku and Aoba grunted in pain.

 

“His body is-!”

 

“Arghh! _Shit_ , that hurts!”

 

“...I see,” was Mink’s only statement before he strode into the living room, resettling Aoba’s head on the coffee table, “this isn’t going to be as simple as we thought.”

 

It looked like the other two had understood as well.

 

“It seems Aoba’s head can’t be too far from his body without causing extreme pain,” the ex-prisoner observed, “which gives us a new problem.”

 

Koujaku nodded, “so… he’s staying here?”

 

“There is no other option. Unless we moved his Desire with the whole chair, and that would look peculiar if seen in the streets.”

 

No one including himself really understood the exact reason why Koujaku chose to give a sigh in reply, but he walked to the door with an, “I’m going to get some more blankets for Aoba’s head, and a few pillows. Mink,” his fist almost clenched, “I take it you’re sleeping on the sofa with him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Alright then.”

 

It was getting easier to understand how that man felt - Aoba realised this as he left the room, and regretting not calling after him. He should have said something; the moment would be gone by the time he got back.

 

Mink’s fingers ran over some hair behind Aoba’s ears, “we’ll really talk about this tomorrow.”

  
Aoba personally didn’t think he’d be able to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a horrible feeling that this fic is going to end up longer than I want.
> 
> *prays silently the italics will stay*

**Author's Note:**

> (This wasn't properly beta-d, so please forgive any mistakes).
> 
> Again, many, /many/ thanks to Bondibee on Tumblr for actually making this whole AU up. You're great.
> 
> www.dr-jiggypepper.tumblr.com, if you want to send an ask.
> 
> The next chapter will be up within a few days c:


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